


Gingerbread Village

by what_the_nesmith



Series: Monkees Exchange [1]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Fluffy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_the_nesmith/pseuds/what_the_nesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Micky convinces the guys that building a gingerbread village would be a good idea. Of course, it doesn't go the way any of them planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gingerbread Village

Mike flipped through the paper, skimming through the personal ads, looking to see if there were any gigs available. Rent was going to be due soon and that would mean the guys would need a new gig sooner or later. The last gig they’d gotten had been a couple of weeks ago and hadn’t paid all that well. Both Peter and Davy were sitting on the lounge chair, a checkerboard separating them. The game seemed to be going in favour of Davy but Peter had a knack of putting in a few good moves in nearing end game and coming out on top, so the victor could still be either of them. Suddenly, Micky burst through the back door, feet sandy and hair dripping wet. He’d been down at the beach since after breakfast and had clearly been in the ocean.

“You guys, let’s build a gingerbread village tomorrow night,” he blurted. It had been a thought that had occurred to him while swimming and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. Mike peered over the newspaper, commenting dryly, “Micky, get to the bathroom before you get sand everywhere.” The last thing that was needed was a mess to clean up. Micky stuck his tongue out at Mike and then headed towards the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “You guys think about it while I’m washing off, I think it’s a really groovy idea.” And with that, Micky shut the bathroom door and a minute later the shower could be heard. 

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Peter quipped, moving one of his black checker pieces. 

“Oh, c’mon, it isn’t even Christmas, it’s the middle of the summer,” Davy pointed out as he took his turn. 

“Yeah, plus we’re already going to be a bit pressed for cash come rent if we don’t get another gig soon,” Mike added, still rifling through the personal ads in the paper. 

“Oh, please Mike, we’ll get a gig, please, let’s build a gingerbread village,” pleaded Peter. Mike sighed and folded the paper up, setting aside on the dining table. 

“I dunno man,” he began but Peter gave him a puppy dog look and Mike could never argue with that face, “Oh, oh alright, fine, I’ll get the supplies tomorrow.” Peter cheered, nearly knocking over the checkerboard in the process. 

“Hey, watch it man,” Davy warned, adjusting the slightly askew board and fixing the checker pieces back to where they had been before.

“Oh, sorry Davy,” Peter apologized and then took his turn. After a couple of minutes, Micky exits the shower. 

“Watch out Jones, Tork seems to be cornering your troops,” he said in a mock officer voice as he passed the lounge chair on his way to the kitchen to get something to eat. Davy gave him a look that said ‘very original micky’ and Peter tried to hide his smile. 

“You’ve got your wish Mick, we’re making some gingerbread houses tomorrow,” Mike informed Micky as he passed the dining table. 

“Aw sweet man, tomorrow’s gonna be so groovy,” Micky exclaimed. And so the next day, around noon, Mike went out to the store and purchased gingerbread materials such as gingerbread and candy and frosting and all that good stuff. He also picked up a few other things that were needed, but of course those aren’t very important, hardly worth mentioning. Michael returned home and stashed the gingerbread making materials in the hidey cupboard that all the boys used to hide some sort of morsel (mostly Peter and his chocolate, which seemed to be running low). For awhile, Mike fooled around on his guitar, joined in by Peter once he had washed up from being on the beach. Micky and Davy returned before dinner (they, along with Peter, had spent most of the day down at the beach) and then after dinner was eaten and cleaned up, Mike helped Micky move the dining table out of the way.

“Pete, go get the materials from the hidey cupboard,” Mike instructed as he sat down onto the floor. Davy flopped down so that his back was against a cabinet. Peter scrambled over to the hidey cupboard and collected all of the materials (leaving some of the chocolate for his own stash) before coming back and dumping them in the middle of what was soon to be the circle. Micky sat down across from Davy and Peter plopped himself between Mike and Micky. 

“Okay guys, so are we just gonna make like each our own or..?” Mike asked, surveying the materials they had at hand. 

“I was thinking, we each make our own, and then, we all make like this giant lizard and then we can pretend it’s destroying the little town while we eat it!” Micky announced, explaining with his hands as well, imitating a lizard destroying a town. 

“I’d rather just make a peaceful little town Micky,” Peter murmured at the same time Davy said, “Micky, you have the strangest thoughts sometimes, you know that.” 

“Alright weirdos, just grab some stuff an’ start building,” Mike laughed, gathering a couple of the gingerbread walls and some M&M’s and other candies. Peter dove right in and began making his gingerbread house, which was instantly beginning to lean a little to the right. Davy got off to a rough start but after a few trial and errors, the little man eventually got the hang of it, unlike Mike. Michael was having a lot of trouble and often had to accept help from Peter who, besides Micky, seemed to be pro at building gingerbread houses (minus the slight tilt). It was frustrating, considering that gingerbread houses should, in theory, be extremely easy to build, emphasis on the easy. But every time Mike went to get the damn thing to stay upright so he could get the walls to form the house, it just fell right over. So Peter helped Mike, while Micky was immersed in making his gingerbread house, and Davy seemed to be both involved with the building of his own and the general happenings of the others. Micky finished building his house structure first (although Peter might have beat him to the punch line if it hadn’t been for him helping Michael) and picked up one of the tubes of icing to begin decorating. 

“Oh shucks, Pete, this is impossible,” groaned Mike upon seeing Micky begin to heap icing onto one side of his gingerbread home. 

“You’re getting the hang of it Mike, don’t give up,” Peter encouraged, indicating what Mike should do next. 

“Yeah man, yours is looking good,” Davy agreed, glancing down at his own and nearly grimacing, “Unlike mine.” 

“You’re all too harsh on yourselves,” Micky butted in, “I mean, not everyone’s a pro.” He waggled his eyebrows at his friends but no one else seemed to find his joke funny so he added, “And I mean, everyone’s is looking good ‘cept for Pete’s whose house is leaning a bit to the left.” Peter shot Micky a hurt look.

“Mine’s not bad at all,” he whined. 

“Peter, what- explain to me again what I need to do next,” Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. The icing that was being used to get the walls to stick together made Mike’s hair stand up a bit. Peter leaned over and explained to Mike once again what the next step of the process was. Micky was squirting another heaping amount of icing onto another side of his gingerbread house. 

“That’s a lot of icing there Micky,” Davy commented, finishing up his house and leaning over to grab a tube of icing for himself. Micky glanced up at the mention of his name but forgot he was still squeezing the icing tube. To say the least, it was the right timing on both Micky’s part and Davy’s part. The icing came squirting out of the bottle and because Davy was leaned over in just the right way, the entirety of it collided with Davy’s shirt front. Micky sucked in a sharp breath of air, Peter stopped talking and looked over, and Mike frowned, wondering what the hell had happened (he had been too wrapped up in trying to understand what Peter had been telling him). Davy gazed down at his now icing coated chest and then looked at Micky. 

“Oh crap Davy, I, umm, I didn’t,” Micky stammered, dropping the icing tube to the floor. 

“It was an accident Davy, wasn’t it Micky?” Peter came to the aid of the struggling drummer. Micky nodded his head, saying, “Yeah, it was an accident, honest.” For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Peter, Micky, and Mike didn’t know if Davy was really mad or if there was something more to this. But, after a minute or two, the nearly expressionless, disapproving look on Davy’s face melted into a broad grin. 

“Oh-ho, you’re in for it now,” Davy laughed and picked up a discarded wall that hadn’t been properly fitting into his home, flinging this in Micky’s direction. Micky leaned to the left just in time, but although he was saved from the flying object, Michael wasn’t. The wall hit Michael square in the face and slid down, falling into his lap. Peter tried to hold back his laughter but all he ended up doing was making himself laugh even harder. 

“Oops sorry Mike,” Davy squeaked. 

“Yeah, sorry Mike,” Micky wheezed, hands pressed against his sides as he laughed as well. Mike arched an eyebrow and took the entirety of his poorly constructed gingerbread house into his grasp. He leaned forward and smashed the house into Micky’s face, making sure to coat his face in all of the construction icing, so that there was not a portion of Micky’s face that wasn’t covered in icing. 

“Yeah, you sure are sorry Mick,” he giggled, smiling proudly at his handiwork. Micky wiped clean his eyes with the back of his hands and then broke out into a grin. He quickly leapt to his feet, bending over and scooping up the tube of icing he’d dropped earlier. The drummer aimed it at Mike and squirted. Instead of hitting its target, the icing made contact with Peter, who have a shriek of surprise. Davy laughed and joined in, chucking some candy at Micky who, upon contact, pretended that they had really hurt him. 

“C’mon on guys, don’t start fightin’ like this,” Mike begged, although judging by the expression on his face none of the guys thought he really meant it. Peter rolled over and began to throw gingerbread materials at Davy, deciding to side with Micky. Mike, seeing that the littlest Monkee had been ganged up on, wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and brought the bassist closer to him so that he could smear icing all over Peter’s face. 

“No, my comrade!” Micky cried in a very poorly executed Russian accent, clutching at his chest as if he had received an invisible blow. 

“Victory!” Davy exclaimed before pelting Micky with a hailstorm of little candy drops. Micky collapsed to the floor and writhed around in mock pain, before rolling onto his side and chucking some candy right back at Davy. Once Mike was satisfied that Peter’s face was covered in icing, he let the bassist go. For a moment, Mike wasn’t sure what Peter was going to do but then he whirled around and tackled Mike to the floor. 

“Sit on him Pete! Pin him down,” Micky cried as he began another candy air assault on Davy. Peter nodded vigorously and then clambered on top of Mike’s chest. He glanced around him for some ammo and found some chocolate bars within reaching distance. He scooped them up and started placing them onto Michael’s face. All four of them were laughing pretty hard, in fact Mike was nearly in tears and Davy kept gasping for air. Eventually, the ammo ran out and the icing too, which was either coating the floor or someone’s face or clothes. The laughter died down and Mike glanced that the clock on the wall. It was nearly twelve in the morning. 

“Wow man, we need to get to bed,” he commented. 

“No, we’re still having fun!” Peter protested, trying to stifle the yawn that accompanied that comment the best he could. 

“Mike’s right, Peter, it’s pretty late,” laughed Davy, brushing off some candy that was stuck to his shirt. 

“Someone’s gonna have to clean this mess up,” Micky pointed out, gesturing around the kitchen to indicate the mess that had indeed been made. 

“You and Davy are cleaning it up. Peter, go wash yourself off man,” Michael instructed. Peter glanced around at the mess, wanting to help Davy and Micky clean it up, but nodded and headed into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. 

“No, why do I have to help?” Davy exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Micky’s direction, “He’s the one who started it.” Mike crossed his arms over his chest. 

“If I let Mick clean this all by himself, nothing’s gonna get done plus he’ll eat half of it and make himself really sick,” said Mike. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Davy admitted after a moment, accepting his fate. 

“Hey, I wouldn’t make myself sick,” protested Micky, as he was stuffing some floor candy into his mouth. Davy and Mike gave him equally ‘are you kidding me’ looks and Micky flushed, stuffing more candy into his mouth in a huff. Peter came out of the bathroom then, all cleaned up and fresh, PJs and night cap donned. He wandered over to the kitchen while Mike went into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up next. 

“C’mon man, let’s get started or we’ll be here forever,” Davy said to Micky, giving the drummer a gentle kick to the backside. Micky didn’t budge, he merely kept eating the floor candy. Peter began to help Davy put the broken and crumbled gingerbread walls into a trash bag. A minute or two later, Mike came out of the bathroom. 

“Peter, let’s go upstairs,” he suggested, walking over to the kitchen area. 

“You can go upstairs Mike, I’m going to help Micky and Davy,” Peter announced, bending down to pick up some more trash. Mike grabbed the bassist’s hands before he could do anything else though. 

“Nuh-uh guy, we’re going upstairs and Micky and Davy are cleaning up,” Mike told him firmly. 

“But Mike-,” Peter began to protest but Mike grabbed Peter’s waist and lifted him up, saying, “Now don’t argue with me”, and began carrying Peter to the stairs. 

“Night Micky,” Peter said glumly, waving at Micky and Davy, “Night Davy. I’ll be back down as soon as I can.” But by the way Peter kept yawning, Davy concluded that Peter would sooner be asleep than walking around. The two of them disappeared upstairs and Davy turned up to the mess at hand. Micky was still sat on the floor, eating. 

“Will you please get up off your arse and help me?” Davy snapped, throwing a trash bag in Micky’s direction. 

“Only if you’ll give me something for my troubles,” said Micky with a wink before pointing to Peter’s house that, in all the carnage, was still mostly intact. Davy blushed a furious red, thinking for a moment Micky meant something else, and then he looked in the direction that Micky was pointing. 

“Really? You want to eat all that even after eating all the candy you’ve had?” Davy questioned skeptically, not wishing to be cleaning up this mess and Micky’s sick. That would just be too much. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Micky grinned, nodding so vigorously Davy was sure his head would fall off his neck at any moment. 

“Sometimes you can be so strange,” Davy shook his head, bending down and picking up the remaining structure that was Peter’s gingerbread house. He put it onto the table. 

“Aren’t I though?” Micky joked, rolling onto his feet. Davy just rolled his eyes and said, “If you help me clean up, you can eat that whole thing.” 

“Woo!” Micky cheered and started to help clean up the trash. Together, they mopped up and picked up the mess, filling two trash bags. After the floor was all cleaned, Micky moved the table back to where it usually was (Davy had tried to help but the table was light enough for Micky to handle it himself so Davy just held the gingerbread house). 

“There, all done!” Micky declared proudly. Then he turned around and took the gingerbread house from Davy and sat down. As he began to eat the gingerbread house, he patted the seat next to him. Davy thought about just hitting the sack but sat down anyway. 

“Want some?” Micky asked around a mouthful of food. Davy weighed his options and then shrugged, breaking off some of the gingerbread house to eat. 

“Sorry about your shirt though, seriously man,” Micky apologized. 

“Ha ha, don’t sweat it man, it’s only a shirt,” Davy laughed, breaking off another piece of the gingerbread house, “I’m just glad we all had fun.” 

“Yeah although I think me and Pete got really messy,” Micky giggled. 

“What? Look at this shirt Micky,” Davy exclaimed, tugging at his shirt for emphasis. 

“Oh, I thought it was just shirt though, Davy,” teases Micky, chucking a teeny piece of the gingerbread home at Davy. 

“Quit it, Mick, unless you wanna have to clean up again,” Davy warned, shaking his head. 

“Alright, alright man,” Micky chuckled and then indicated the gingerbread home, “You wanna eat the last piece or can I?” 

“No thanks Micky,” Davy said, “You go on ahead.” Micky grinned and finished off the last of the gingerbread home. With that finished off, the kitchen was so clean that no one would have guessed just about half an hour before there had been such an intense food fight.

“Okay man, I’m gonna go to bed,” Davy announced. Micky stifled a yawn and agreed. He put the last dirty plate into the sink and then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. On his way out, he said goodnight to Davy as the Englishman squeezed past him to get himself washed up and ready for bed. 

“Nighty night Micky,” Davy said, giving Micky a quick hug before Micky went upstairs. The light was still on in his and Mike’s bedroom but when he entered he found his bed already occupied by a very much asleep Peter Tork. Micky went to wake up the bassist so that he could get into his bed but Michael suddenly hissed, “Hey man, don’t wake him up. He fell asleep in my lap and so I thought he’d be alright up here tonight.” 

“Where am I gonna sleep then?” Micky asked. 

“Go sleep in his bed, it’s not like there’s much of a difference,” shrugged Michael. Micky shook his head and then headed back downstairs. He knocked on the bedroom door and Davy answered, “Yeah?” Micky poked his head in. 

“Are you alright with me sleeping in Pete’s bed tonight?” he questioned. 

“Of course, I don’t mind at all,” grinned Davy. 

“Great, thanks man,” said Micky and he clambered into Peter’s bed. 

“Did Peter fall asleep on your bed?” Davy asked. 

“Yup, he sure did,” Micky confirmed, snuggling down into the blankets, “Wow, I think Peter has the softest blankets in this house.” Davy sat up a little, peering at the bed. 

“What’s that mean?” he inquired. 

“No, come over here and get underneath these blankets, like I really believe Peter has the softest blankets in the pad,” Micky insisted, waving Davy over. Davy scrambled out of his bed and over to Peter’s, climbing under the covers. 

“Christ he does,” gasped Davy. Micky and Davy looked at each other with wide eyes and then they started to laugh. After a little bit, Davy made to get out of the bed but Micky shook his head. 

“No way you aren’t staying in this bed. How often do you think you’ll get a chance like this?” Micky said. 

“I am 90% sure Pete would either let me sleep in his bed with him or switch our beds or something,” Davy pointed out. 

“You are killing this groovy mood man,” Micky stated. Davy rolled his eyes and laid back down. 

“Okay man just close your eyes and get some rest,” Davy sighed, smiling to himself. 

“Goodnight Davy,” Micky said. 

“Goodnight Mick,” Davy answered, wrapping an arm around Micky’s waist. After a while, both of them were fast asleep. What a wonderful end to such a wonderful day.


End file.
